The Villainess Wants To Retire-Chapter 275: Strike The Coin

That afternoon, while Soren sat in his office contemplating his romantic inadequacies with all the drama of tragic playwright, Eris was engaged in considerably more productive activities.

She sat in her temporary workspace reviewing Duchess Maren’s intelligence about the embezzlement network. Fifteen years of careful theft, millions in gold diverted through creative accounting, all flowing through one man, Marquess Theron Ashveil, Master of Coin, who wore his corruption like expensive jewelry and thought himself untouchable.

Duke Cassius had received mercy. A deal. Leniency in exchange for testimony.

Theron would receive no such courtesy.

Eris penned a letter with elegant efficiency, each word chosen for maximum impact:

Your Imperial Majesty,

I recommend immediate public announcement of a comprehensive financial audit of the imperial treasury. Complete review of all accounts, transactions, and fund allocations for the past fifteen years. Transparency will demonstrate our commitment to rooting out corruption and rebuilding public trust.

The announcement should be made this afternoon. Timing is critical.

Respectfully,

Eris Igniva

She sealed it with her personal mark and dispatched it via guard with instructions for immediate delivery.

Then she settled back to wait, reviewing the evidence Maren had provided one more time. Ledgers. Transaction records. Correspondence between Theron and Vetra discussing "fund management" in language too careful to be innocent.

All of it sitting ready. Waiting.

^^^

Marquess Theron Ashveil was enjoying late lunch in his chambers when the announcement reached him.

Not through official channels, those would have been too slow, too formal. No, Theron heard through his network of servants and sycophants who rushed to inform their master that the Emperor was preparing to address the court regarding imperial finances.

Audit.

The word hit him like ice water.

Comprehensive. Complete. Fifteen years.

Theron’s thoughts, previously occupied with selecting which jeweled ring to wear to evening’s social gathering, transformed into pure panic: No no no this can’t be happening not now not when everything was going so well they can’t possibly have found the records I was so careful the accounts are layered through three separate...

His hands shook as he set down his wine glass. Fifteen years of embezzlement. Millions in gold. His name on every transaction if anyone looked closely enough, which no one had because he was Master of Coin and who audited the auditor?

Apparently, the Fire Queen did.

She knows,

his frantic thoughts continued.

That foreign witch knows somehow she has evidence she’s going to destroy me Vetra promised this was safe she promised I was protected but if they audit if they actually look closely,

He stood abruptly, chair scraping against marble. His valet looked up with concern.

"My lord?"

"Prepare travel arrangements. Immediately. I’m visiting my estate in the southern territories. Family emergency." The lies tumbled out with desperate speed. "Have my carriage ready within the hour. Pack essentials only."

The valet’s thoughts, considerably calmer: Southern territories? In winter? With roads barely passable? Someone’s running from something. None of my business. I just work here.

"Of course, my lord."

Theron packed with trembling hands, shoving jewelry and documents into travel bags without his usual care for organization. Had to get out. Had to reach the border before they moved to arrest him. Had connections in the southern provinces, could disappear into merchant networks where imperial authority grew thin.

He made It to the palace gates before guards stepped into his path.

"My lord." Commander Ryse appeared with expression suggesting he’d been expecting this. "His Imperial Majesty requests your presence. Immediately."

"I have urgent family..."

"Now, my lord."

Theron’s mind screamed: I’m trapped... trapped... they know they have evidence I should have run yesterday should have seen this coming should have,

"Of course." His voice came out strangled. "Just let me return these bags to my chambers, "

"The bags will be searched as well." Ryse’s tone brooked no argument. "This way, my lord."

The search of Theron’s chambers was methodical and devastating.

Guards found ledgers hidden in false-bottomed furniture. Correspondence buried in trunks. Transaction records tucked between innocent documents in his desk.

All of it confirming exactly what Maren had reported, fifteen years of systematic theft, funds diverted to personal accounts, portions filtered directly into Vetra’s coffers.

The paper trail was immaculate. Damning. Undeniable.

One guard, rifling through Theron’s correspondence, thought: How do these nobles always think they won’t get caught? Like, you’re stealing MILLIONS and you keep written records? Just... don’t do that? Is that hard?

By evening, Theron was imprisoned in the palace cells, his assets frozen, his position stripped. The Master of Coin who’d grown rich on empire’s gold now sat in cold stone room contemplating how quickly fortunes reversed.

And Vetra’s faction had lost its financial controller. The man who’d managed their embezzlement, distributed their bribes, maintained the complex network of corruption that funded their schemes.

Gone. In single afternoon.

...

Viktor Virelya arrived at Vetra’s chambers as dusk painted snow-covered gardens in shades of purple and gray. He entered without ceremony, face flushed with agitation that suggested he’d run through palace corridors.

"The protest failed." He didn’t bother with pleasantries. "Eris addressed them directly. Disarmed them with... with honesty of all things. Most of them dispersed sympathetically. Our agitators lost crowd support entirely."

Vetra sat at her desk reviewing correspondence, expression serene as freshly fallen snow. "I’m aware."

"You’re, you’re not concerned?" Viktor stared at her like she’d grown second head. "We worked hard organizing that protest, planting the right people, crafting the narrative, "

"The protest was noise, Viktor." She set down her quill with precise care. "A distraction. I never expected it to accomplish anything substantial beyond occupying attention while I move other pieces."

Which is why I let you organize it you fool, Vetra’s thoughts added with cold satisfaction. You think you understand strategy, but you’re still playing games while I’m waging war.

Viktor’s thoughts ran considerably less composed: Distraction? DISTRACTION? I spent hours meeting with grieving families and radical extremists in warehouses that smelled like mildew and she calls it NOISE?

"Fine." He forced himself to focus on larger crisis. "But Theron’s been arrested. They found everything, the ledgers, the correspondence, direct evidence linking embezzlement to your accounts."

Now Vetra’s expression flickered. Just briefly. A tightening around her eyes that suggested genuine anger beneath perfect composure.

"That," she said quietly, "is considerably more problematic."

"More than problematic! He was managing all our finances! All the bribes, the contingency funds, the, " Viktor paced, agitation making him reckless. "We should move up the timeline. Take drastic action now before Eris dismantles our entire network."

"There will be no need for that."